


Cold Turkey

by shnuffeluv



Series: Bipolar Mycroft [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, F/M, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Molly Is Patient, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, and lack of taking it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft calls Molly at 2 AM and she knows instantly something is wrong. Mycroft wouldn't call her at 2 AM for no reason, or just because he missed her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Turkey

Molly got the call at 2 AM and groaned at her phone when it kept ringing. She snatched it and held it to her face. “Hullo?”

“Molly? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Mmf. Mycroft, it’s 2 AM. What exactly are you doing up?”

“Well, I, uh, couldn’t get to sleep,” Mycroft said, and Molly could almost see him fidgeting with his hands. She hadn’t heard him this chipper in a while, not since...Oh…

“Mycroft, please tell me you didn’t stop your medication in a fit of hypomania.”

The man huffed defensively. “The medication makes everything feel off. I don’t feel happy or even fast when I’m on it. Everything drags.”

“Yeah, honey, it’s supposed to. That’s what neurotypicals are like,” Molly sighed. “Please take your medication. For me.”

Mycroft growled on the other end of the line and Molly knew she wasn’t getting any more sleep that night. “I don’t need the medication!”

“Well what happens when you come down from the hypomania, honey?! Weeks of depression, remember? Do you really want that?”

“It won’t happen this time,” Mycroft assured.

“Bull!” Molly yelled. “It’s just how your brain operates, honey, and it’s dangerous! That’s why you have the medication! Is it not working?”

“No, it makes me slow and blah,” Mycroft sighed.

“That’s what it’s supposed to--!” Molly took a breath. “Is it okay if I come over?”

“So long as you don’t force feed me my meds, yeah,” Mycroft said.

Molly got up and got dressed. “How long have you been off your medication?”

“5 days.”

“Feeling sped up the entire time?”

“Yeah, why?”

_ Crap _ . “Because your hypomania rarely lasts more than a week,” Molly explained. “And you’re gonna feel like crap very soon.”

“No I won’t,” Mycroft laughed. “I told you, it’s not like that this time!”

Molly closed her eyes and sighed, dashing outside after setting up food for Toby for the day, and getting in her car. “Myc, listen to me. Can you at least try to sleep?”

“I suppose…” Mycroft said reluctantly. “But only for a few hours. I have work to do.”

“Okay. I’ll let myself in with the spare key, okay? Don’t freak out if you fall asleep and I’m suddenly there.”

“M’kay,” Mycroft sighed. Molly could tell he was in bed and drifting off.

“I’ll call you if I need help, okay? Just relax.”

“Yeah...you’re good at relaxing me, you know…” he yawned.

“I know,” Molly laughed. “See you soon.”

“Mmm.”

Molly hung up and drove to Mycroft’s place quickly. She let herself in and went to his bedroom, where she found him fast asleep. She went to his kitchen and checked his medication. The bottle was empty. He must not have refilled his script. Molly sighed and went into the living room to catch a few winks on the couch. How much harm could it do?

* * *

A low groaning sound woke Molly from her sleep. The pain kind of groan, too. Molly shot up and went to Mycroft’s room to check on him. “Myc, honey? Are you okay?”

Mycroft shifted in bed and sat up, trapped in his blankets. “You’re the one who suggested I sleep, and now I feel awful!” he accused.

Molly came closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “Well you hadn’t slept properly for days…” Molly started.

Mycroft growled at her and shoved her off the bed. “My head won’t shut up and it’s yelling at me! I was fine before!”

“Myc, this is what happens when you don’t take your medication. It’s the reason you don’t have to deal with intrusive thoughts of hurting yourself,” Molly said slowly. “You need to fill your script and then you’ll feel better. What happened that made you feel bad?”

Mycroft shrugged. “I thought Sherlock was using. Dreamt. Woke up like this. It’s your fault!” he said petulantly.

“Not really,” Molly said. “It’s no one’s ‘fault’, it’s just the way your brain’s wired.”

Mycroft huffed. “I’m tired,” he declared.

Molly rolled her eyes. “You just slept, honey.”

“Not that kind of tired.”

“Wh…” Molly shook her head. “What kinds of tired are there?” she asked.

Mycroft shrugged. “Tired that’s in your bones. Tired that’s constant yawning. Tired of existence because it sucks at your soul,” he chuckled. “I know tired so well I could go on for hours.”

Molly felt sadness take over her like a wave. She had no doubt her boyfriend knew the different kinds of tired that would come with depression. Molly said weakly, “You can get up and function at least, I know you could before.”

Mycroft slapped her hands away and hissed, “Leave me alone!”

Molly blinked at her stinging eyes and bit her lip. “Yeah, okay. Call if you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”

She sped out of the room and took a shaky breath. She knew she couldn’t blame Mycroft for this, not for one stupid slip-up. That didn’t mean that him acting frigid towards her didn’t sting, though. She sat down on Mycroft’s couch, looking around for a good book to read. Finding nothing that she was interested in, she sighed and got up to make breakfast. Maybe she could convince Mycroft to eat a bite or two before she went out to find some solution to getting Mycroft to refill his prescription. She heard shuffling behind her and turned to find Mycroft standing at the edge of the kitchen. “Why are you even here, Molls?”

“You called me at 2 AM during a fit of hypomania and I was concerned. I knew you could sleep during it provided the thought actually occurred to you, so I suggested that to give me time to get over here. So I could help you in whatever way I could. I’m neurotypical, and I can’t possibly imagine what you have to go through, but I don’t want you to go through it alone if you don’t have to.”

Mycroft blinked and rubbed at his eyes. “Why would that matter to you, though? I’m not worth the ground people step on.”

“No you’re not, you’re worth so much more,” Molly said, grabbing an apple from the counter and tossing it to Mycroft, who snatched it out of the air. “Eat something, will you? You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Mycroft flushed and Molly groaned. “Honey, this is why you need medication. To remember to take care of yourself, and to not hate yourself so much. Please refill your prescription? For me?”

Molly thought Mycroft might agree, but he reluctantly shook his head. “What would be the point, though? I can work without the medication well enough during one week to make up for the rest of the month! Everything is so slooow with it. I mean, it’s near impossible to function!”

Biting her lip, Molly pulled out her trump card. “If you’re so convinced about that, we can bring Sherlock into the conversation? I’m sure he could run a successful experiment with focus of the brain on and off mood stabilizers.”

Mycroft shook his head vehemently. “We’ve  _ talked _ about this, Molls! We don’t tell Sherlock!”

Molly held her hands up. “Well he’s going to find out sooner or later, with this going on. Being fine one week and manic the next and depressed the week after that? He’ll  _ notice _ , Mycroft, you taught him how to, you know he will!”

Mycroft bit his lip and considered. “...I’ll get my meds, and take them. But only so Sherlock won’t know.”

Molly sagged in relief. “That’s good, honey. That’s real good. We can go down to the pharmacy together?”

Mycroft ran a hand over his face and nodded.

* * *

The next week Mycroft called Molly at 2 AM again. She was braced for the worst as she answered. “Honey? Are you off your meds again?”

There was heavy breathing on the other end of the line. “No. No...I just...I needed to call someone...my emotions are all over the place, but not in a manic kind of way. Sherlock got in trouble, I’m at Bart’s, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think, or feel. C-can I just...talk to you?”

Molly sat up and grabbed a clean set of clothes. “I’ll be right over, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to do that Molls, honest. I just...don’t know what to feel.”

“And that’s why I’m coming over, to teach you how to deal with this, okay? You’ll be all right. Just give me 15 minutes.”

“Molls?” Mycroft asked.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“...Thank you. For keeping me from going cold turkey on my meds. If I weren’t on them right now, I’m not sure what I would have done when Sherlock got hurt. It definitely wouldn’t have been good. So thank you.”

Molly smiled as she got dressed. “Of course, that’s what I do, I worry about you. Give me 15 minutes and we can talk as much as you want.”

“See you then,” Mycroft said.

“Yeah, see you,” Molly said with a smile in her voice. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”


End file.
